Check-Mate

52. Morning

Warm Pov

The first thing I feel when I wake up is the weight of my belly. It has been my constant companion these past few months, growing heavier and more awkward with each passing day.

 Today is no different, and it takes me a good few minutes of shifting and groaning to finally sit up. 

"Come on, Warm," I mutter to myself as I push against the mattress, determined to rise on my own. 

When I finally do, a sigh of relief escapes me, though my hands instinctively go to my aching back. Pregnancy is no joke, friends. It feels like a workout just to sit up some days.

As I adjust my position against the headboard, the dull ache in my neck catches my attention. It's a new kind of discomfort, a reminder of the events from the previous night. 

My fingers lightly brush over the mark on my collarbone—the mark P' Terk gave me. His mark. It's strange, really, having this proof of something so intimate, something that binds us in a way I never imagined I would experience.

I glance at the empty space beside me where P' Terk slept last night. The sheets are cool to the touch; he must have been up for a while now. 

Turning my gaze toward the window, I realize it doesn't seem like early morning. The sun is too high in the sky. 

Grabbing my phone, I check the time and feel a wave of shock when I see it's already past ten. Ten! I have never slept this late, not since I got pregnant. 

My mornings usually start early with discomfort tugging me out of sleep, but today? Today, I woke up feeling rested for the first time in what feels like forever.

I can't help but think about last night. 

Was it P' Terk's embrace that soothed me? Or is this what being a marked omega feels like?

 Whatever it is, I am not complaining. For once, I didn't wake up with aches in places I didn't even know could ache. I rest my head against the backboard, a faint smile playing on my lips as I wonder if this is what normal people feel like every morning. If it is, I could definitely get used to it.

But then, my mind drifts to the bigger question: did I do the right thing? 

Letting P' Terk mark me wasn't a decision I took lightly. I agreed for one reason and one reason only—our baby. My baby. 

My hand moves instinctively to my belly, gently rubbing over the swell. Every decision I have made since finding out I was pregnant has revolved around protecting this child. 

I had been watching the news obsessively, hearing horror stories about the dangers unmated omegas and their children face. It terrified me. Kidnappings, attacks, even deaths—I couldn't let that happen.

No matter how I felt about P' Terk personally, I couldn't be selfish. 

The baby needed security, and Terk could provide that. Being his mate, being marked by him, is the best way to ensure the baby's safety. It's not what I wanted for myself, but for the baby? I would do anything. And if that means tying myself to P' Terk for the rest of my life, so be it. 

A part of me aches at the thought of giving up my independence, but then I remind myself—it's worth it. As long as my child is safe, nothing else matters.

Just as I am lost in my thoughts, the door opens, and in walks P' Terk, balancing a tray of food. His presence fills the room immediately. 

He is tall, broad-shouldered, and carries himself with that calm authority that makes everyone take notice. But today, there is a softness in his expression. 

He smiles as he approaches, setting the tray on the bedside table. "Good morning, Warm. Did you sleep well?"

"I did," I admit, though a flush creeps up my cheeks. It feels strange, letting him see me like this—bedhead, a just-woken-up face, and all. I must look a mess.

"Good," he says warmly, placing the tray in front of me. "Breakfast in bed for you today."

I blink at the gesture, then glance at the tray. It's a sweet thought, I know, but I can't help but feel awkward. 

"P' Terk," I say, shifting slightly. "I don't eat without brushing my teeth first. And I definitely don't eat in bed." I wrinkle my nose. "What if there are crumbs? I will never be able to sleep comfortably again."

His smile falters, turning awkward as he looks at the tray. 

I feel a twinge of guilt but quickly suggest, "How about we eat on the balcony instead? It's attached to the bedroom, and the fresh air will be nice."

Relief washes over his face, and he nods. "That sounds perfect."

As I start to get up, he moves toward me. "Let me help," he offers, his voice kind, but I shake my head.

"I can do it myself," I insist, though it's a bit of a struggle. I waddle to the bathroom, determined to handle things on my own. Inside, as I brush my teeth, a pang of guilt sneaks in.

 P' Terk didn't have to mark me. He didn't have to agree to this arrangement at all. And yet, here he is, going out of his way to make me comfortable, to look after me and the baby. 

Shouldn't I feel grateful? Shouldn't I feel something more than this awkwardness?

But then, I remind myself: P' Terk is an enigma. He's not like ordinary wolves. He can have multiple mates, mark others if he chooses. 

I am not taking anything from him by letting him mark me. In fact, this arrangement benefits both of us. He gets to be a protector, a guardian, and I get the security my baby needs. It's not a traditional bond, sure, but it works. 

My fingers brush over the mark again, tracing the edges. It's still tender, a reminder of how much my life has changed in such a short time. 

If I am being honest, I sometimes resent P' Terk for putting me in this position to begin with. If not for him, maybe my life wouldn't have spiraled the way it did. 

But then again, he is also the one ensuring that my baby will have a future. Maybe this mark is just a way of making him pay me back for everything he has taken from me. The thought brings a small, wry smile to my face.

When I step out of the bathroom, I feel refreshed, the lingering guilt tucked neatly away. I see P' Terk waiting by the balcony door, the tray of food now set up on a small table outside. He turns when he hears me, his expression softening. 

For a moment, I hesitate, the weight of everything between us hanging in the air. But then he smiles—gentle, patient—and I realize that for all our differences, for all the ways this isn't what I imagined my life to be, I can trust him. At least for now.

"Ready to eat?" he asks, pulling out a chair for me.

I nod, lowering myself carefully into the seat. As we settle in, the sunlight warming the balcony, I place a hand on my belly and let myself breathe. This might not be the life I wanted, but it's the life I have. And for my baby, I will make it work.